


Retaliation

by invisible_doorknob



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot, dyad sex, possible dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22123219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisible_doorknob/pseuds/invisible_doorknob
Summary: Revenge can be sweet...very sweet.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 62





	Retaliation

**Author's Note:**

> MOVIE UNIVERSE ONLY. NO KNOWLEDGE OF EXPANDED UNIVERSE. 
> 
> THIS COULD BE READ AS MILD DUBCON. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

“Yes, we need more coverage in that area--” Rey’s breath catches. 

“Is something the matter?” asks the man across the table--a colonel from one of the core worlds, but at this instant Rey just can’t remember his name. 

Her lids want to drift shut. She keeps them stubbornly open. “No, nothing, I’m fine.” _Not now. Not **now** when I’m working with **diplomats!** _“About the proximal region--are those stars still flaring?” 

The discussion goes back to solar weather, but Rey immediately loses track. The sensation that has crept into her mind is back, and increasing; spreading out from her abdomen, sparkling through her nerves. 

She can’t lock it out. Not anymore. The Dyad is fully in place and...and...and she really can’t concentrate… 

“Excuse me.” Rey pushes to her feet and sends an unfelt smile around the table. “I’m...I’m afraid I’m indisposed.” 

She gives them all a Jedi bow and strides out of the room as fast as dignity allows, not caring about the whispers in her wake. Even Jedi can eat bad food from time to time, let them think that. 

“Didn’t I tell you _not now?_ ” she mutters under her breath as she hurries down the wide hallway. The only answer she gets is a wicked chuckle...and a surge of sensation that almost makes her stumble. 

The first door she tries is locked. The second is a janitorial closet. 

_It will have to do._ Rey closes the door hastily behind her and throws the lock, praying that none of the cleaning staff will come by in the next few minutes, because this is about to get very, _very_ embarrassing. 

“Ben Solo, you little _shit,”_ Rey snarls, and shoves a detergent barrel far enough away that she can pace. 

Now that she isn’t fighting it, Rey can see him clearly, lying back in their bed wearing nothing but loose pants and a lazy grin. His hand is dipped beneath the waistband, and she knows _exactly_ what he’s doing under there. 

Because she can feel it. Every slow stroke. Every swipe of his fingers across the head. Every time he squeezes the shaft. She doesn’t even _have_ a cock, and she can feel it _all_. 

He smirks and blows her a kiss. “How is work going, dear?” 

Rey groans. “How should I know? I’m stuck in a closet because _you_ can’t keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Oh, it’s very much myself.” He shifts his hips, a little _mmm_ escaping him as his grip changes slightly. “Wish it was you.” 

Rey holds back a whimper. The slickness between her legs is getting downright uncomfortable. “If you’re going to put me through this, at least _show_ me.” 

Ben’s smile is the one that always turns her insides liquid. “With pleasure,” he says, dark and deep, and pulls down the waistband to the top of his thighs. 

Rey feels her pussy clench. Ben’s endowment matches his size, and Rey knows _exactly_ how much his cock strains her fingers when she tries to fist it. Now it is hard enough to nearly touch his belly, flushed and sticky--she can see the fluid leaking from the slit. 

Ben hums again, running his fingers up the underside, sighing as he reaches the top and tugs lightly on the foreskin. Rey sucks in a breath; that manoeuvre always makes her nerves light up. 

“Ben…” she mutters, half-warning and half-begging. He puts his other arm behind his head, stretching and preening just a little as he continues the slow stroke of his cock. 

“Consider it my revenge,” he says, arching a brow. “For last month.” 

“That wasn’t my _fault_ ,” Rey protests, feeling her knees getting weak as he sped up a little. “How was I to know you were listening in?” She’d ruined a conference call for him by pleasuring herself in bed, unaware that Ben was trying unsuccessfully to master his arousal just three rooms away. 

“You were too distracted to pay attention, I suppose,” he muses, lips pursing in mock disdain. “Squirming around like that, fingers so busy on your clit...I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard, knowing you were so close and there was _nothing_ I could do about it.” 

Rey clenches her fists and presses her legs together to try to get more stimulation. There is no room to sit down and the last thing she needs is someone walking in on the last of the Jedi Masters with her pants around her ankles and her hand in her crotch. “You loved it.” 

“Mmm, I did.” Now that the Dyad permits them to share sensation like this, Ben is even more fascinated by her body than before, and has made a serious study of all the different ways he can make her orgasm. Not that he was inattentive _before_ , of course. “But coming in my pants during a live call is just...awkward.” 

“Joke’s on you,” Rey says through gritted teeth. “I’m in a closet.” 

He chuckles. “I know. I can see you.” His palm is warm against his hot flesh, just rough enough to drag a little. Rey rubs a hand tingling with the phantom sensation of ridges and veins. “I can even _smell_ you.” 

The moan slips out of her before she can stop it. _“Ben.”_

He strokes faster, his voice getting more breathless, and Rey’s hips twitch with each maddening touch. “I’m going to make you come without even touching you, Rey. Just like you did to me.” 

The cock she doesn’t have is on fire and the flames are spreading up her spine and down her legs. Rey squeezes her eyes shut and bites down on her wrist to keep in the cries, but the image doesn’t go away. Ben is panting now, head tossed back, hand working hard, and Rey is slipping into the rush. She can’t look away. She’s drowning in sensation. There’s no stopping it now--she doesn’t _want_ it to stop, if he stops now she’ll come home just to kill him--

He doesn’t stop. It’s like Force lightning but sweet, paralysing Rey, tearing a half-scream from her throat, but half the pleasure is seeing Ben lost in his orgasm, spine arching, semen spurting in quick splashes on his groin and fingers. 

Rey’s legs are shaking and her heart feels like it’s trying to pound out of her chest. She leans weakly against the closet door, her pussy still spasming as her own orgasm winds down. 

The vision is gone, but Rey knows exactly what Ben looks like at this moment, sprawled out on the bed looking drained and smug. “Mmm, what a mess,” his voice whispers in her ear, still out of breath. “I’m not sure which one of us is stickier.” 

Rey grins, eyes still closed. “You’re going to pay for this, Ben Solo. You won’t know when or where, but you’ll pay.” 

“I thought Jedi were above revenge,” he purrs. “Come home and let me clean you up.” 

The image of _that_ comes through clear--Rey spread out where he is now and Ben slowly licking the slick from her thighs and pussy. 

It’s really not a choice at all. Rey exhales and passes her hands over her hair, checks the placement of her lightsaber, and releases the lock. “All right, you win. I’m coming.” 

“Oh, you will be.” He’s smirking, she can tell. 

She snickers, shivers in anticipation, and opens the door. 

~End~


End file.
